UC-NRLF 


T\ 

.IBRARY 

iNiventrr  or    / 

CAtlKMMIA      J 


PRIVATE  LIBRARY  OF 

H.    SCOF^IELD, 


^Af«  ty  t    i 

I  WOULD  IOT  LITE  ALWAY, 


Other  Pieces  in  Verse  by  the  same  Author. 


YORK : 

ROBERT  CRAIGHEAD,  PRINTER. 

1860. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 
W.  A.  MUHLENBERG, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


153 


TO 

MY    DEAR    SISTEE, 
of    H 


THIS    SELECTION  OF  THEM 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCEIBED. 


W.  A.  M. 


531 


PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  ST.  LUKE'S  HOSPITAL. 


PEEFATOEY    NOTE. 


I  LITTLE  thought  that  I  should  ever  gather  up  my 
metres,  to  make  a  book  of  them.  Besides  other  reasons, 
they  are  few  in  number.  But  I  now  do  it,  on  the  assur 
ance  that  some  profit  may  accrue  in  aid  of  the  charity  to 
which  my  life  is  at  present  devoted. 

What  kind  of  poetical  merit  these  compositions  possess 
I  perfectly  understand.  Most  of  the  Hymns  are  devo 
tional  lyrics  rather  than  the  earnest  songs  of  Redemption. 
Would  that  they  had  the  inspiration  of  Watts's  or  Wesley's 
lyre! 

The  first  piece  has  appeared  several  times  in  print,  but 
it  is  still  so  frequently  asked  for,  and  the  Hymn  which  is 
a  part  of  it  has  become  so  general  a  favorite,  that  perhaps 
it  will  give  something  of  the  expected  value  to  the  pub 
lication. 

It  was  not  thought  worth  while  to  reprint  here,  those 
Hymns  of  mine  which  are  in  the  Prayer  Book  collection. 

W.   A.    MUHLENBEBG. 

ST.  LAKE'S  HOSPITAL, 
December,  1869. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I  Would  not  Live  Alway, 9 

"  Since  O'er  thy  Footstool," 12 

Yesper  Hymn, 14 

Rosy  June, 15 

To  the  Evening  Star, 17 

Musick, 18 

Sunday  School  Hymn, 20 

"I'll  Worship  the  Lord," 21 

Cradle  Song, 23 

Hymn  for  Advent, 25 

New  Year's  Eve, 27 

Hymn  for  Epiphany, 29 

"  Let  There  be  Light," 31 

The  Blessed  Name  Jesus, 33 

Lines, 35 

"Thy  Kingdom  Come,"    . 36 

Lines, 38 


IV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A  Fable, 39 

A  Christmas  Carol, 41 

Hymn, 43 

A  Christmas  Carol, 45 

Hymn  at  Sea, 54 

"  Come  Follow  Me," 56 

Good  Bye, 58 

A  Letter  Paternal, 60 

Lines, 64 


I  WOULD  NOT  LIVE  ALWAY. 

Job  vii.  16. 

I  WOULD  not  live  alway — live  alway  below  ! 

Oh  no,  I'll  not  linger  when  bidden  to  go  : 

The  days  of  our  pilgrimage  granted  us  here, 

Are  enough  for  life's  woes,  full  enough  for  its  cheer : 

Would  I  shrink  from  the  path  which  the  prophets  of 

God, 

Apostles,  and  martyrs,  so  joyfully  trod  ? 
Like  a  spirit  unblest,  o'er  the  earth  would  I  roam, 
While  brethren  and  friends  are  all  hastening  home  ? 

I  would  not  live  alway  :  I  ask  not  to  stay, 
Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  way ; 
Where  seeking  for  rest  we  but  hover  around, 
Like  the  patriarch's  bird,  and  no  resting  is  found; 
Where  Hope  when  she  paints  her  gay  bow  in  the  air, 
Leaves  its  brilliance  to  fade  in  the  night  of  despair, 
And  joy's  fleeting  angel  ne'er  sheds  a  glad  ray, 
Save  the  gleam  of  the  plumage  that  bears  him  away. 
1* 


10  I   WOULD   NOT   LIVE   ALWAY. 

I  would  not  live  alway — thus  fettered  by  sin, 
Temptation  without  and  corruption  within ; 
In  a  moment  of  strength  if  I  sever  the  chain, 
Scarce  the  victory  is  mine,  ere  I'm  captive  again  ; 
E'en  the  rapture  of  pardon  is  mingled  with  fears, 
And  the  cup  of  thanksgiving  with  penitent  tears  : 
The  festival  trump  calls  for  jubilant  songs, 
But  my  spirit  her  own  miserere  prolongs. 

I  would  not  live  alway — no,  welcome  the  tomb, 
Since  Jesus  hath  lain  there,  I  dread  not  its  gloom ; 
Where  He  deigned  to  sleep,  I'll  too  bow  my  head, 
All  peaceful  to  slumber  on  that  hallowed  bed. 
Then  the  glorious  day  break,  to  follow  that  night, 
The  orient  gleam  of  the  angels  of  light, 
With  their  clarion  call  for  the  sleepers  to  rise 
And  chant  forth  their  matins,  away  to  the  skies. 

Who,  who  would  live  alway  ?  away  from  his  God, 
Away  from  yon  heaven,  that  blissful  abode 
Where  the  rivers  of  pleasure  flow  o'er  the  bright  plains, 
And  the  noon-tide  of  glory  eternally  reigns; 
Where  the  saints  of  all  ages,  in  harmony  meet 
Their  Saviour  and  brethren,  transported  to  greet, 
While  the  songs  of  salvation  exultingly  roll, 
And  the  smile  of  the  Lord  is  the  feast  of  the  soul. 


I    WOULD   NOT   LIVE   ALWAY.  11 

That  heavenly  musick  !  hark,  sweet  in  the  air 
The  notes  of  the  harpers  how  clear  ringing  there  ! 
And  see,  soft  unfolding  those  portals  of  gold, 
The  King  all  arrayed  in  His  beauty  behold ! 
Oh  give  me,  Oh  give  me,  the  wings  of  a  dove 
To  adore  Him — be  near  Him — enrapt  with  His  love ; 
I  but  wait  for  the  summons,  I  list  for  the  word — 
Alleluia — Amen — evermore  with  the  Lord. 
1824    Kevised,  1859. 


"  SINCE  O'ER  THY  FOOTSTOOL." 

SINCE  o'er  Thy  footstool  here  below, 

Such  radiant  gems  are  strown, 
Oh,  what  magnificence  must  glow, 

My  God,  about  Thy  throne  ! 
So  brilliant  here  these  clrops  of  light, 
There  the  full  ocean  rolls,  how  bright ! 

If  night's  blue  curtain  of  the  sky, 
With  thousand  stars  inwrought, 

Hung  like  a  royal  canopy 

With  glittering  diamonds  fraught, 

Be,  Lord,  Thy  temple's  outer  veil, 

What  splendor  at  the  shrine  must  dwell ! 

The  dazzling  sun,  at  noontide  hour, 

Forth  from  his  flaming  vase, 
Flinging  o'er  earth  the  golden  shower, 

Till  vale  and  mountain  blaze, 
But  shows,  0  Lord,  one  beam  of  Thine, 
What,  then,  the  day  where  Thou  dost  shine ! 


"SINCE  O'EK  THY  FOOTSTOOL."  13 

All !  how  shall  these  dim  eyes  endure 

That  noon  of  living  rays, 
Or,  how  my  spirit  so  impure 

Upon  thy  brightness  gaze  ? 
Anoint,  0  Lord,  anoint  my  sight, 
And  robe  me  for  that  world  of  light. 
1824" 


VESPER  HYMN. 

THE  mellow  eve  is  gliding, 
Serenely  down  the  west, 

So,  every  care  subsiding, 
My  soul  would  sink  to  rest. 

The  woodland  hum  is  ringing 
The  daylight's  gentle  close, 

May  dear  ones  round  me  singing, 
Thus  hymn  my  last  repose. 

The  evening  star  has  lighted 
Her  crystal  lamp  on  high, 

So  when  in  death  benighted, 
Let  hope  illume  the  sky. 

In  golden  splendor  burning, 

The  morrow's  dawn  shall  break  ; 

Oh,  on  the  last  bright  morning, 
May  I  in  glory  wake. 


ROSY  JUNE. 

ROSY  June  is  descending, 

Her  breath' s  in  the  air, 
Light  and  beauty  attending 

Her  zephyr-drawn  car : 
Around  her  entwining 

Are  rainbows  of  flowers, 
Her  coronal  shining, 

With  morn's  dewy  showers. 

The  woodbine  is  wreathing 

The  lattice  with  bloom, 
Magnolias  are  breathing 

Their  spicy  perfume, 
The  violets  are  flinging 

Their  redolence  sweet, 
Blossoms  everywhere  springing, 

Her  coming  to  greet. 

The  humming  bird' s  sporting 

On  gossamer  wing, 
The  butterfly' s  courting 

Each  beautiful  thing, 


16  ROSY   JUNE. 

The  oriole  is  showing 
His  plumage  of  gold, 

In  gardens  all  glowing 
Like  Eden  of  old. 

The  blue  waves  are  breaking 

With  mirth  on  the  strand, 
Wild  music  is  waking 

O'er  river  and  land, 
The  moss-garnished  fountains 

All  sparkling  arise, 
And  forest-plumed  mountains 

Are  kissing  the  skies. 

Jocund  breezes  are  blowing, 

Joy  flushes  the  scene, 
In  the  tide  health  is  flowing, 

Life  bounds  in  the  green  : 
With  mirth  in  all  voices, 

And  hearts  all  in  tune — 
Glad  nature  rejoices 

To  hail  Rosy  June. 
1826. 


TO  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

QUEEN  of  the  twilight  hour, 
I  hail  thy  soothing  reign  ; 

While  silent  'neath  thy  power, 
Lie  valley,  hill,  and  plain. 

How  fair  thy  beauty  glows 
Gem  of  the  amber  west ! 

Or,  like  a  snowy  rose 

Dew-bright  on  Evening's  breast. 

Nay,  be  a  temple-light 

Lit  for  earth's  vesper  song, 

On  Heaven's  high  altar  dight, 
The  incense  clouds  among. 

So  by  thy  hallowed  beams, 
From  nature's  book  I'll  pray, 

And  catch  the  bliss  that  seems 
Luxuriant  in  thy  day. 


MUSICK. 

MUSICK  in  voice,  or  pipe,  or  string, 

The  dullest  ear  discerns  ; 
But  to  the  soul's  ear  listening, 

Tuneful  all  nature  turns. 

Musick  there  is  when  morning  springs 

On  plumes  of  purple  light ; 
When  evening  softly  folds  her  wings 

Upon  the  lap  of  night. 

There's  musick  when  the  vernal  gale 
Sings  to  the  waking  flowers ; 

When  sombre  Autumn  through  the  vale 
Her  mellow  anthem  pours. 

There's  musick  in  the  dancing  light, 
Of  moonbeams  on  the  waves ; 

Deep  musick  in  the  howling  night, 
When  the  wild  tempest  raves. 

There's  musick  in  the  sparkling  stream 
That  gems  the  mountain  side  ; 

Rich  musick  in  the  golden  gleam 
Of  fields  in  harvest  pride. 


MUSICK.  1 9 

Grand  musick  in  the  starlight  sky 

Ringing  from  out  the  spheres, 
Those  chords  of  nine-fold  harmony 

Strung  at  the  birth  of  years. 

There's  musick — say,  where  is  there  none*? 

God's  glorious  works  around, 
Each  gives  in  harmony  its  tone, 

A  universe  of  sound. 


SUNDAY  SCHOOL  HYMN. 

"Feed  my  Lambs."— St.  John  xxi.  15. 

"  FEED  my  Lambs,"  how  condescending, 
How  compassionate  the  grace 

Of  the  Saviour,  just  ascending, 
Thus  to  bless  our  infant  race. 

Richest  treasure,  dearest  token 
From  His  stores  of  love  to  give, 

Kept  from  age  to  age  unbroken, 
Till  its  bounty  we  receive. 

Who,  without  that  word  of  blessing 
Could  our  dark  estate  have  told  ? 

Sin  and  woe  our  souls  distressing, 
Lost  and  wandering  from  His  fold. 

"  Feed  my  Lambs,"  ye  pastors  hear  it, 
Feed  the  flock  of  His  own  hand ; 

Oh,  for  Him,  for  us  revere  it ; 

Keep  the  Shepherd's  last  command. 


"I'LL  WORSHIP  THE  LORD." 

"  I  will  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  with  my  whole  bean, 
secretly  among  the  faithful,  and  in  the  congregation." — 
Psalm  Ixi.  1. 

FLL  worship  the  Lord  in  His  house, 
I'll  haste  with  the  church-going  throng 

At  His  altar  to  offer  my  vows, 
And  join  in  the  festival  song. 

I'll  worship  the  Lord  with  the  few 
Sojourners  who  meet  by  the  way, 

To  muse  of  the  Canaan  in  view, 

And  for  strength  on  their  pilgrimage  pray. 

I'll  worship  the  Lord  in  the  ring, 
Where  brothers  and  sisters  unite 

Every  morning  His  goodness  to  sing, 
His  mercy  and  truth  every  night. 

But,  oh,  there's  a  temple  besides, 

A  temple,  the  world  ne'er  hath  known, 

Where  ministering  silence  presides, 
And  the  heart  is  the  altar  alone. 


22  "I'LL   WOKSHIP   THE   LORD." 

To  the  High  Priest  Himself  I'll  draw  near, 
To  His  own  mercy-seat  in  the  Heaven, 

Where  the  voice  of  His  love  meets  mine  ear : 
"  Go  in  peace — thy  sins  are  forgiven." 


CRADLE  SONG. 

SWEET,  my  darling,  be  thy  sleeping 

Pillowed  on  affection's  breast ; 
Love,  her  faithful  watch  is  keeping, 

Bending  o'er  thy  smiling  rest  : 
Thus  nor  care  nor  sorrow  knowing 

Be  thy  life  a  happy  dream, 
Ne'er  through  wild  or  desert  flowing, 

All  thy  days  a  gentle  stream. 

How  adorned  in  opening  beauty 

Thou  wilt  grace  thy  parents'  side ! 
Care  of  thee  their  fondest  duty, 

Thou  alone  their  joy  and  pride. 
Yes,  my  Lily,  thou  shalt  flower 

Like  some  plant  of  paradise ; 
Blight  nor  mildew  touch  thy  bower, 

Always  bright  thy  genial  skies. 

Hush  !  my  tongue,  that  idle  singing 
As  if  earth  were  fairy  land ; 

Not  below  the  joys  are  springing, 
Not  the  bliss  I  would  command. 


24  CKADLE   SONG. 

Rather  this  thy  mother's  blessing, 
This  my  daughter  be  thy  share : 

Graces  of  the  soul  possessing, 
Be  in  virtue's  mirror  fair. 

To  the  flock  of  Christ  elected, 

Oh,  but  know  the  Shepherd's  love, 
By  His  rod  and  staff  protected 

Onward  to  His  fold  above  : 
Be  thy  path  then  rough  or  even, 

Few  or  many  be  thy  days, 
Only,  so  we  meet  in  Heaven 

Joining  there  in  endless  praise. 
1828. 


HYMN  FOR  'ADVENT. 

"  Then  shall  He  sit  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory." 

THE  Throne  of  His  Glory — as  snow  it  is  white, 
Upborne  in  the  air  by  the  legions  of  Light, 
And  startled  to  life  by  the  trumpet's  last  sound, 
The  hosts  of  the  nations  stand  waiting  around. 

The  Throne  of  His  Glory — there  lieth  unsealed 
The  life-roll,  the  death-roll,  of  names  ne'er  revealed, 
Now  secret  no  longer  :  the  millions  divide 
To  the  right  and  the  left,  on  the  throne's  either  side. 

The  Throne  of  His  Glory — and  glorious  there  stand 
The  elect  of  His  love,  and  the  sheep  of  His  hand, 
While,  dark  on  His  left,  shrunk  away  from  His  face, 
The  lost  ones  that  sought  not  the  Throne  of  His  Grace. 

The  Throne  of  His  Glory — my  poor  trembling  soul ! 
Oh,  what,  when   arraigned  there,  thy    dread    shall 

control 

Of  that  doom  of  the  exiled,  "  Ye  cursed  depart," 
For  ever,  and  ever,  to  toll  on  the  heart. 
2 


26  HYMN   FOB   ADVENT. 

From  thy  Father  an  exile  ?  Thy  home  never  see  ? 
No,  child  of  His  mercy,  unchanging  and  free, 
Ere  creation  began,  in  the  counsels  of  love, 
He  wrote  thee  an  heir  of  His  kingdom  above. 
1839. 


NEW  YEAR'S   EVE. 

HARK  !  tis  twelve  o'clock  tolling ; 

The  jovial  cup, 
As  fast  as  time's  rolling, 

With  pleasure  fill  up  : 
Adieu  pain  and  sorrow  ! 

Thou  old  year  begone ! 
One  long  and  bright  morrow, 

Fair  new  year  come  on ! 

Hush,  wild  one,  that  laughter — 

That  madness  have  done — 
The  past  and  hereafter, 

Believe  it  are  one : 
There  needs  not  a  seer 

To  paint  coming  days, 
Who  scans  the  old  year, 

On  the  new  one  may  gaze. 

Eyes  that  with  pleasure 

Full  brilliantly  beam, 
WTith  grief's  bitter  treasure 

How  surely  ye'll  stream  ; 


28  NEW  TEAK'S  EVE. 

Ears  that  are  thrilling 
With  rapturous  song, 

Cruel  words  shall  be  filling 
And  anguish,  ere  long. 

The  dance,  the  regaling, 
The  music,  the  feast ; 

Ah,  weeping  and  wailing 
For  where  is  the  guest  ? 

The  light  heart  rebounding 
And  leaping  with  mirth — 

The  white  shroud  surrounding, 
"  Dust  to  dust— earth  to  earth." 

Hark !  the  last  bell  is  tolling, 

It  tolls  for  the  dead  ; 
Ere  another  year's  rolling, 

What  souls  shall  have  fled  ! 
Hush,  wild  one,  that  laughter, 

Look  back  on  the  past ; 
Lest,  boasting  hearafter, 

This  year  be  thy  last. 
1830. 


HYMN  FOR  THE  EPIPHANY. 

Isaiah  Ix. 

RISE,  daughter  of  Zion,  thy  mourning  is  o'er, 
The  night  that  hath  veiled  thee  shall  veil  thee  no  more ; 
Wear  the  robes  of  the  morning,  arise  thou  and  shine, 
For  the  beauty  and  light  of  Jehovah  are  thine. 

Oh,  lift  up  thine  eyes,  look  around  thee  and  see 
How  thy  children  are  gathering  together  to  thee  ; 
Like  doves  on  the  wing,  flying  home  to  be  blest 
At  thine  altar  with  peace,  in  thy  bosom  with  rest. 

From  the  sea's  furthest  shores,  and  like  its  full  tide, 
The  nations  new-born,  how  they  flow  to  thy  side  ; 
To  freedom  forth  springing,  thy  light  having  seen, 
They  own  thee  a  Mother,  and  hail  thee  a  Queen. 

Who  wasted  thee  once,  humbly  kneel  at  thy  feet, 

Rejoicing  thy  sceptre  of  mercy  to  meet, 

WThile  the  proud  ones  that  turned  from  the  dawn  of  thy 

day, 
In  the  blaze  of  its  noon  shall  but  wither  away. 


30  HYMN   FOR   THE   EPIPHANY. 

In  thy  kingdom  of  Jove  shall  all  violence  cease, 
Thine  exactors  be  justice,  thine  officers  peace, 
Thy  people  all  righteous,  and  truth  all  thy  ways, 
Thy  walls  called  salvation,  thine  open  gates  praise. 

Jehovah,  thy  beauty,  thy  brightness,  thy  crown, 
Thy  moon  shall  not  wane,  and  thy  sun  ne'er  go  down, 
And  the  tide  of  thy  glory  no  ebbing  to  know, 
Shall  an  ocean  of  light  round  the  universe  flow. 


"LET  THERE  BE  LIGHT." 

WRITTEN    FOR    THE    LAYING    OF    THE    CORNER-STONE 

OF  ST.  PAUL'S  COLLEGE,  OCT.  15,  1836. 

WHEN  Earth's  foundation  stone  was  laid, 
Let  there  be  Light,  Jehovah  said ; 
Night  from  her  chaos  throne  was  hurled, 
And  morning  blest  the  embryo  world. 

Let  there  be  Light :  again  He  spoke  ; 
The  storm  of  fire  from  Sinai  broke ; 
V  Let  there  be  Light :  the  Rainbow  shone 
In  beauty  round  Messiah's  throne. 

Let  there  be  Light :  the  light  that  streams 
Rich  from  the  Cross,  in  living  beams, 
Whence  science  gilds  her  fairest  rays, 
And  genius  burns  with  hallowed  blaze. 

Let  there  be  Light :  the  potent  word 
That  stirs  to  life  where'er  'tis  heard ; 
Utter  it  forth — Heaven's  watchword  still — 
From  vale  to  vale,  from  hill  to  hill. 


32  ULET   THERE   BE   LIGHT." 

Let  there  be  Light :  the  high  command 
Be  pledge  and  signal  of  our  band : 
Who  vow  to  that  akin  we  claim, 
Fellows  and  friends,  whate'er  their  name. 

Let  there  be  Light :  our  banner  high 
Shall  catch  the  radiance  of  the  sky, 
Float  on  its  breeze — triumphant — free — 
Till  God  repeal  His  first  decree. 


THE  BLESSED  NAME  JESUS. 

AN    EVANGELICAL    ROSARY. 

JESU'S  name  shall  ever  be 
For  my  heart,  its  Rosary ; 
I  will  tell  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
Always  dearer  than  before. 

Ave  Mary,  may  not  be 
For-  my  heart  its  Rosary  ; 
Jesus,  Saviour,  all  in  all — 
Other  name  why  should  I  call. 

Morning  hymns  and  evening  lays, 
Noontide  prayer  and  midnight  praise, 
Heart  and  voice,  and  tune  and  time 
Jesu's  name  they  all  shall  chime. 

Descant  sweet,  unceasing  chant, 
Other  name  my  spirit  can't — 
Time  bring  what  it  may  along, 
Jesus  still  the  unchanging  song. 


34  THE   BLESSED    NAME    JESUS. 

Redolent  with  healing  balm, 
Pleasure's  charm  and  trouble's  calm ; 
All  of  Heaven  my  hope  and  claim, 
Grace  on  grace  in  Jesu's  name. 

In  my  soul  each  deepest  chord 
King  it  out,  One  Saviour  Lord ; 
Jesus,  the  eternal  hymn 
Forth  from  saint  and  seraphim. 

Jesus,  breathe  my  every  breath — 
Jesus,  on  my  last  in  death — 
Jesus,  rest  in  paradise — 
Jesus,  glory  in  the  skies ! 
1842. 


LINES 

ON    HEARING    SOME    GAY    MUSIC  OF  MY  BROTHER'S,  SOON 
AFTER    HIS    DECEASE. 

THOSE  blithesome  notes  !  ah  me,  how  strange, 

They  strike  upon  my  ear ! 
The  same  he  touched — and  yet  a  change 

In  every  tone  I  hear. 

So  plaintive  gay — at  once  they  chime 

A  sweet  discordant  tone  ; 
The  ear,  but  not  the  heart,  keeps  time — 

The  harmony  has  flown. 

Like  funeral  bells  in  muffled  gloom 

Pealing  a  merry  air ; 
Or  brilliant  flowers  upon  a  tomb, 

Blooming  so  sadly  fair. 

Then  play  some  hallowed  strain  he  wrote, 

No  tune  of  earthly  leaven — 
Something  to  mingle  with  the  note 

I  ween  he  chants  in  Heaven ! 


"THY  KINGDOM  COME." 

KING  of  kings,  and  wilt  Thou  deign, 
O'er  this  wayward  heart  to  reign  ? 
Other  Sovereign,  none  I'll  own ; 
Rule  here,  Lord,  and  rule  alone. 

Then,  like  heaven's  angelic  bands, 
Waiting  for  Thine  high  commands, 
All  my  powers  shall  wait  on  Thee, 
Captive,  yet  divinely  free. 

At  Thy  word  my  Will  shall  bow, 
Judgment,  Reason,  bending  low, 
Hope,  Desire,  and  every  thought, 
Into  glad  obedience  brought. 

Zeal  shall  haste  on  eager  wing, 
Hourly  some  new  gift  to  bring, 
Wisdom,  humbly  casting  down 
At  Thy  feet  her  golden  crown. 

Tuned  by  Thee  in  sweet  accord, 
All  shall  sing  their  gracious  Lord  ; 


THY   KINGDOM   COME.  37 

Love,  the  leader  of  the  quire, 
Breathing  round  her  seraph  fire. 

Be  it  so — my  heart's  Thy  throne ; 
All  my  powers  Thy  sceptre  own, 
And,  with  them  on  Thine  own  hill, 
Live  rejoicing  in  Thy  will. 


LINES 

WRITTEN    ON   THE    FIRST    PAGE    OF    AN   ALBUM. 

You  bid  me  dedicate  your  book, 

Denial  is  in  vain, 
Say,  then,  to  whom  my  muse  shall  look 

To  hear  the  votive  strain. 

To  genius,  surely,  if  her  fire 
With  truth  were  always  bright, 

If  ne'er  she  strung  a  syren  lyre 
Nor  flashed  a  dazzling  light. 

To  friendship,  rather,  if  her  heart 
Were  always  warm  and  pure, 

And  always  with  an  angel's  art 
To  goodness  would  allure. 

Nay,  then,  to  virtue's  patronage 

The  volume  I  resign  ; 
And  like  it  be  thy  heart  a  page 

For  many  a  holy  line. 


A   FABLE. 

(TJie  Thought  Borrowed.) 

u  HUZZA  for  a  show ! 

Gaze,  mortals  below," 
Sang  a  rocket  just  ready  to  rise  ; 
"  Neighbor  lamp,  fare  thee  well, 

Burn  on  in  thy  cell, 
While  I  go  to  light  up  the  skies." 

It  whizzed  and  it  flashed, 

As  upward  it  dashed, 
With  a  train  of  magnificent  fire ; 

The  lamp's  feeble  light, 

Scarce  attracted  the  sight, 
While  all  the  gay  streamer  admire. 

In  the  midst  of  the  shout, 

Alas  !  it  is  out, 
Down  tumbles  the  stick  to  the  ground 

"  Already  returned," 

Quoth  the  lamp  it  had  spurned, 
That  was  still  shining  gently  around. 


40  A   FABLE. 

So  steady  and  bright, 
Like  the  lamp's  useful  light, 

Be  the  zeal  I  would  cherish  and  prize ; 
While  the  fierce  rocket  zeal, 
That  a  madcap  may  feel, 

Spouts  fire  a  moment,  and  dies. 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

Made  for  the  Boys  of  St.  Paul's  College — the  Chorus  adapted 
from  one  of  the  Rev.  A.  C.  Coxe's  Christian  Ballads. 

CAROL,  brothers,  carol ; 

Carol  joyfully ; 
Carol  the  good  tidings, 

Carol  merrilie — 
And  pray  a  gladsome  Christmas 

For  all  good  Christian  men  ; 
Carol,  brothers,  carol, 

Christmas  times  again. 

Carol  ye,  with  gladness 

Not  in  songs  of  earth  ; 
On  the  Saviour's  birth-day, 

Hallowed  be  our  mirth  ; 
While  a  thousand  blessings 

Fill  our  hearts  with  glee ; 
Christmas-day  we'll  keep,  the 

Feast  of  Charit ! 


42  A   CHRISTMAS   CAROL. 

At  the  joyous  table, 

Think  of  those  who've  none- 
The  orphan  and  the  widow, 

Hungry  and  alone  ; 
Bountiful  your  offerings, 

To  the  altar  bring  ; 
Let  the  poor  and  needy 

Christmas  carols  sing. 

Listening  angel  music, 

Discord  sure  must  cease ; 
Who  dare  hate  his  brother, 

On  this  day  of  peace  ? 
While  the  heavens  are  telling 

To  mankind  good-will, 
Only  love  and  kindness 

Every  bosom  fill. 

Let  our  hearts,  responding 
To  the  seraph  band, 

Wish  this  morning's  sunshine 
Bright  in  every  land  ! 

Word,  and  deed,  and  prayer, 
Speed  the  grateful  sound, 

Bidding  merry  Christmas 

All  the  world  around. 
1840. 


HYMN. 

ANOTHER  FORM  OF  "JERUSALEM,  MY  HAPPY  HOME." 

JERUSALEM,  Jerusalem, 

Name  ever  dear  to  me  ; 
Oh,  may  at  last  my  home  be  found, 

Jerusalem,  in  thee  ! 

Oh,  may  these  eyes  thy  crystal  walls, 

And  gates  of  pearl  behold, 
Thy  jasper  and  thy  sapphire  stones, 

Thy  streets  of  purest  gold. 

The  alleluia  of  thy  hymns 

Before  the  great  I  AM  ; 
The  harpers  harping  with  their  harps, 

The  new  song  of  the  Lamb ! 

The  white  robes  of  thy  ransomed  hosts ; 

The  victor  palms  they  bear ; 
Prophets,  apostles,  martyrs,  saints, 

Dear  friends,  and  kindred  there. 


44  HYMN. 

No  sun  and  moon  with  changing  ray, 
To  tell  thy  day  and  night ; 

The  Lord  Himself  thy  glory  is, 
And  Jesus  is  thy  light. 

Jerusalem,  Jerusalem  1 
Name  ever  dear  to  me  ; 

Oh,  may  at  last  my  home  be  found, 
City  of  God,  in  thee  ! 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

[Written  on  the  occasion  of  receiving  a  "  Christmas  Box  "  from 
my  former  pupils  of  Flushing  Institute  and  St.  Paul's  College, 
in  the  form  of  a  valuable  and  most  interesting  picture,  which  one 
of  them  had  learned  I  had  much  admired.  The  lines,  as  an 
acknowledgment  of  their  kindness,  were  recited  to  a  number  of 
them  who  met  in  my  church,  for  the  purpose,  on  Christmas 
morning — 1856.] 

"  A  MERRIE  Christmas,"  merrie  thrice, 

My  friends,  my  children  dear, 
More  heartily  that  wish  I've  breathed 
Never,  than  to  you  here. 

And  now  what  shall  my  greeting  be  ? 

What  words  shall  I  employ  ? 
Fve  tried — my  heart  won't  go  in  prose, 

'Twill  only  sing  its  joy. 

Seldom  since  ye  were  boys  at  school, 

IVe  penned  a  rhyming  strain ; 
The  genius  of  your  presence  'tis 

That  wakes  my  muse  again. 


46  A    CHRISTMAS    CAKOL. 

And  ballads  are  for  Christmas  time ; 

Then  one  I  may  essay, 
On  this  which  your  kind  hearts  have  made 

My  happiest  Christinas  day. 

For  what  delights  a  father  more, 

Or  what  to  him  more  dear, 
Than  when  his  sons  in  man's  estate 

Unite  his  age  to  cheer  1 

I  am  no  father — round  my  board 
Daughters  nor  sons  will  meet, 

Like  yours,  that  roused  you  at  the  dawn 
With  Christmas  kiss  to  greet. 

Yet  I  can  well  endure  the  loss — 

I  can,  when  such  a  band 
Fain  call  their  old  schoolmaster  Sire, 

And  give  their  filial  hand. 

There's  other  parentage  than  that 
Which  human  ties  accord — 

May  I  not  claim  you  without  boast 
My  children  in  the  Lord  ? 


A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL.  47 

'Twas  all  His  ordering  providence, 

His  grace,  I'll  hope,  as  well, 
That  made  my  roof  your  boyhood's  home, 

Still  on  your  lives  to  tell. 

Ye've  sacred  thoughts  of  that  old  home, 

Its  chapel,  prayers,  and  praise, 
With  songs  and  rites  that  made  you  love 

The  church's  festal  days. 

Those  rites  and  songs— they've  just  gone  by 

That  early  Christmas  scene  : 
At  dawn  had  you  been  here  you'd  felt 

Like  boys  again,  I  ween. 

Hosanna,  blessed  He  that  comes, 

Young  choristers  have  sung : 
Magnificats  and  Glorias 

Around  the  church  have  rung. 

In  shaking  hands,  as  once  we  did, 

With  voice  and  hearts  in  chime, 
With  Christmas  gifts  to  feast  the  poor, 

We've  had  a  right  good  time. 


48  A   CHRISTMAS   CAEOL. 

That  Christmas  gift  of  yours  last  eve — 
Greater  no  child's  delight, 

With  glistening  eyes  at  Santa  Claw, 
Than  mine  was  at  the  sight. 

Thanks  for  a  gift  of  costly  price, 

A  noble  work  of  art, 
More  precious  for  the  argument 

Its  graphic  forms  impart. 

Grand  the  idea  that  canvas  shows  :* 

The  open  Word  of  God, 
Enlightening,  blessing,  comforting 

Souls  freed  from  priestly  rod. 


*  The  painting — three  feet  by  two— by  Hiibner,  the  first 
artist  of  the  Protestant  branch  of  the  Diisseldorf  school,  repre 
sents  the  interior  of  a  German  cottage  with  the  rustic  family 
engaged  with  the  Holy  Scriptures.  A  boy  reading  from  the 
Bible  forms  the  centre  of  the  group.  His  grand-parents  are 
listening — the  mother  lighted  up  with  joy  in  believing,  the 
father  pondering  what  he  hears  with  a  more  reasoning  faith. 
The  sister  of  the  boy,  with  half-absent  looks,  is  patiently  waiting, 
with  folded  arms,  until  he  is  done,  leaning  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  which  he  occupies  as  the  seat  of  honour,  for  the  time,  in 
consideration  of  his  office.  In  the  foreground  is  apparently  the 


A   CHRISTMAS    CAROL.  49 

A  youth  the  priest — a  peasant's  cot 

The  hallowed  house  of  prayer — 
No  jewelled  altar,  yet  full  sweet 

The  incense  rising  there. 

No  mediator  save  the  ONE 

To  man  before  his  Lord  : 
He  for  himself  the  pardon  reads, 

The  great  High-Priest's  own  word. 

That  Gospel  faith  (to  set  it  forth, 

The  artist's  high  design), 
That  faith  your  gift  a  pledge  shall  be, 

For  ever  yours  and  mine. 

And  more,  I  trow,  your  present  means  : 

That  ye've  remembered 
flow  young  and  old,  from  first  to  last, 

The  Bible  lesson  said. 


widowed  mother  of  the  children,  who  has  returned  with  them  to 
the  old  home.  She  listens  with  the  composure  of  calm  reverence 
and  pious  attention.  Light  through  an  opening  in  the  roof  seems 
to  hint  at  illumination  from  above.  The  details  of  the  work  are 
admirable. 

5 


50  A   CHRISTMAS    CAROL. 

That  Bible  lesson — Ohr  deem  not 
For  boyish  days  a  rule, 

But  o'er  and  o'er,  till  got  by  heart, 
Task  in  the  life-long  school. 


For  scholars  yet,  alike  we  are, 
Of  one  school  or  the  other  : 

That  of  the  world,  alas  !  so  full, 
Or  that  of  Christ  our  Brother. 

Our  Brother,  yea,  our  Brother  He, 

The  LORD,  to-day  appears  : 
Bone  of  our  bone,  flesh  of  our  flesh, 

Humanity  He  wears  : 

To  found  His  blessed  school  on  earth, 
His  Church,  the  school  of  Heaven, 

Master  and  Teacher,  Guide  and  Friend, 
To  be,  Himself  has  given. 


Learn  ye  of  Him,  lowly  and 
Yield  to  his  kind  control  ; 

His  easy  yoke,  His  burden  light, 
With  rest  unto  your  soul. 


A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL.  51 

Learn  ye  of  Him,  ye  busy  ones 

Toiling  earth's  lore  to  gain, 
Year  in,  year  out,  with  vexing  thought — 

Vexing  how  oft  in  vain. 

Christ's  scholars  ye,  be  taught  of  Him 

How  fretting  care  shall  cease, 
In  ways  of  His  all  pleasantness, 

In  paths  of  His  all  peace. 

Whate'er  the  task,  whate'er  the  rule, 

Whate'er  the  class  or  place, 
'Tis  but  the  training  of  His  love, 

His  discipline  of  grace. 

His  scholars — they'll  have  holidays ! 

Those  holidays  to  come, 
When  all  whom  He  has  taught  shall  meet, 

As  brothers  meet  at  home. 


E'en  now  He  makes  a  brother's  feast, 
'Tis  spread  this  blessed  day — 

We'll  gather  there — oh,  why  not  all  ? 
Can  any  say  Him,  nay  ? 


52  A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL. 

A  brother's  feast — the  first-born  He 
Amid  that  Brotherhood, 

Of  all  in  every  age  and  clime 
Who  true  to  him  have  stood. 


In  East  or  West,  in  North  or  South, 

Their  Table  is  but  one, 
And  theirs  the  only  fellowship 

Never  to  end  begun. 

Never  to  end — yea,  ever  new, 

In  bright  perennial  youth, 
There  in  the  Father's  house — the  Home 

Of  perfect  Love,  and  Truth. 

Christ  bring  ye  thither,  my  dear  sons, 
This  be  my  Christmas  prayer — 

This  benison  my  heart's  desire  : 
All  here  be  numbered  there  ! 


Amen,  I  know,  your  hearts  reply, — 
Then  pledge  the  vow  with  me  : 

Henceforth  we'll  live,  that  we  may  keep, 
Christmas  eternally 


A   CHRISTMAS   CAROL.  53 

And  now  all  glory,  honour,  praise 

To  God,  the  Incarnate  Son, 
The  Father,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 

For  ever  Three  in  One. 


HYMN  AT  SEA. 

FOR  THE  MISSIONARIES  TO  CHINA,  JULY,  1859. 

COME,  Brothers,  as  we  voyage  along, 
To  Him  we  love  lift  up  the  song, 
Who  first  loved  us,  His  own  delight, 
Bless  day  by  day,  bless  night  by  night. 

Jesus,  we  sing,  where'er  we  are, 
On  native  shores,  or  borne  afar ; 
The  same  sweet  well-spring  of  the  soul, 
Exhaustless  as  these  waters  roll. 

Jesus,  the  Name  o'er  every  name, 

Of  light  and  love  the  eternal  flame  ; 

With  that  aglow  be  all  our  ways, 

Thought,  word,  and  deed,  one  psalm  of  praise. 

Thy  missioners,  thus,  oh,  Christ,  we'll  be, 
Nothing  ourselves — all,  all  of  Thee  ; 
Only  Thy  strength  be  seen  in  ours, 
Thy  might  alone  our  mightiest  powers. 


HYMN   AT   SEA.  55 

Then,  while  we  ask  the  favouring  gale» 
Still  more  we  pray  ;  Thy  breath  prevail, 
Creating  prophets  of  Thy  word, 
Souls  to  subdue  to  Thee  their  Lord — 

Lifting  their  voice  with  trumpet  calls, 
Till,  as  the  last  Pagoda  falls, 
O'er  Buddha's  realms  the  anthem  rings, 
Christ,  Lord  of  Lords,  and  King  of  Kings. 

Amen,  amen,  so  let  it  be, 
All  praise  to  Thee,  Thou  One  in  Three, 
New  honour,  glory,  power  be  given 
By  hosts  on  earth  with  hosts  in  Heaven. 


"COME    FOLLOW    ME." 

WRITTEN   FOR   THE    RECEPTION    OF    A    "  SISTER "    AT    ST. 


THINE  Handmaid,  Saviour  !  can  it  be  ? 
Such  honour  dost  Thou  put  on  me  ? 
To  wait  on  Thee — do  Thy  commands — 
The  works  once  hallowed  by  Thy  hands  ? 

Daily  thy  mercy  paths  to  go, 
Bearing  Thy  balm  for  every  woe, 
Thy  sick  and  weary  ones  to  cheer, 
Bid  them  Thy  words  of  pity  hear — 

Parting  with  earth  Thy  cross  to  bear, 
Content  thy  poverty  to  share, 
Rich  in  Thy  Love — Thou  blessed  Lord, 
This  life  to  me  dost  Thou  accord  ? 

Oh  marvellous  grace — yea  even  so  ! 
The  call  I  heard — 'twas  thine  I  know — 
"  Come  follow  me ;"  the  Heavenly  voice, 
How  could  it  but  constrain  my  choice ! 


"  COME   FOLLOW   ME."  57 

My  heart's  free  choice,  yet  bound  by  Thee ; 
Thrice  welcome,  sweet  captivity, 
My  soul  and  all  its  powers  to  fill 
With  love  of  Thee  and  Thy  dear  will. 

Lord,  give  but  light  to  show  the  way, 
Strength  from  Thyself  to  be  my  stay, 
Grace,  always,  grace  to  feel  Thee  nigh — 
Thine  Handmaid  then,  I  live  and  die. 
1859. 


GOOD  BYE. 

Written  for  the  Infant  School  of  the  Church  of  the  Ascension, 
New  York,  on  Parting  with  their  Pastor  to  become  Assistant 
Bishop  of  Ohio. 

OFT  in  song  our  voices  ringing, 

Thou  hast  heard  and  joined  our  cry, 

Now  no  strain  of  gladness  bringing 
We  have  come  to  sing  good  bye. 

Dearest  Pastor, 
We  have  come  to  sing  good  bye. 

Thanks  for  all  thy  faithful  teaching, 

Patient  with  our  heedless  years  ; 
Thanks  for  thy  sweet  stories,  preaching 

Jesus  to  our  infant  ears. 

Dearest  Pastor, 

Thanks  on  thanks  with  our  good  bye. 

Every  Lord's  day  shall  remind  us 

Of  thy  loving  presence  here, 
And  long  years  in  age  still  find  us 

Clinging  to  thy  memory  dear. 
Dearest  Pastor, 

Ever  in  our  hearts,  good  bye. 


GOOP    BYE.  59 

God  be  with  thee,  friend  and  father, 

Doing  well  the  shepherd's  part ; 
Seeking  still  the  lambs  to  gather, 

Bearing  them  anear  thy  heart. 
Dearest  Pastor, 

Happy  they  thy  flock,  good  bye. 

Parting — parted  not  in  Jesus, 

That  great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep, 
Ransomed  by  his  blood  most  precious, 
Thee  and  us  will  ever  keep. 

Dearest  Pastor, 

With  this  prayer,  our  last  good  bye. 
1869. 


A  LETTER  PATERNAL. 

TO  TWO  OF  MY  SCHOOL  SONS  ABOUT  TO  BECOME    CHURCH 
FATHERS. 

***** 

MAN  may  make  Bishops,  Christ  alone 
Makes  those  whom  He  vouchsafes  to  own, 
Sprung  of  pure  apostolic  race, 
The  sure  succession  of  His  grace. 

Then  may  His  unction  you  anoint ; 
His  hands  imposing  you  appoint, 
Rich  in  the  gifts  which  they  impart, 
True  Bishops  after  His  own  heart. 

His  blood-bought  flock  your  charge  to  keep, 
Forth  in  green  pastures  lead  the  sheep, 
Carry  the  lambs,  the  weak  upbear, 
The  meanest  not  beneath  your  care. 

Nor  them  alone  within  the  fold, 
The  wanderers  far  around  behold  ; 
Bring  in  the  outcast,  lame,  and  blind, 
The  lost  ones  on  the  mountains  find. 


A   LETTER   PATEEXAL.  61 

Faithful  dispense  the  Master's  word, 
Let  no  uncertain  sounds  be  heard ; 
Christ's  gospellers,  all  rightly  tell 
His  saving  grace  from  sin  and  hell. 


The  Church  needs  Bishops  who  can  preach, 
As  well  as  rule  their  flocks  and  teach, 
Men  ever  first  and  foremost  found, 
In  trumpet  tones  the  truth  to  sound. 

Who  should  be  such  but  they  who  call 
Their  office  one  with  that  of  Paul ; 
Like  Paul  then  preach,  nor  aught  beside 
Christ  Jesus,  and  Him  crucified. 

Apostles  still  may  God  inspire, 
Touched  with  the  old  supernal  fire, 
Bold  His  whole  counsel  to  proclaim ; 
Their  power,  the  One  Almighty  Name. 

The  Lord  has  such — nor  only  where 
Ye  fain  would  see  them — then  beware 
Lest,  as  ye  coldly  from  them  turn, 
His  own  anointed  ones  ye  spurn. 


62  A   LETTER   PATERXAL. 

What  He  hath  wrought,  ye'd  not  reverse — 
Whom  He  hath  blessed,  ye  would  not  curse- 
Nay,  give  to  all  the  brother's  hand, 
Who  keep  with  you  His  last  command. 

On  them,  on  you,  oh,  be  outpoured 
The  seven-fold  Spirit  of  the  Lord, 
Making  your  heart  strong,  and  rejoice 
To  lift  anew,  for  God,  your  voice. 

As  watchmen  on  the  tower  set  high, 
Be  silent  day  nor  night  your  cry  ; 
For  Zion's  sake  hold  not  your  peace, 
For  dear  Jerusalem  never  cease. 


So  wear  your  lawn — no  robe  of  state — 
A  prophet's  robe — in  that  be  great ; 
Your  crozier  bear,  but  not  to  wage, 
Lording  it  o'er  God's  heritage. 

Nor  that  in  you,  my  sons,  I  fear — 
Too  well  approved  your  long  career, 
As  Christian  pastors — yet  have  care 
In  using  power,  the  churchman's  snare. 


A    LETTER    PATERNAL.  63 

Your  power  be  love,  and  only  love, 
Proving  your  office  from  above, 
While  young  and  old,  like  children  all, 
You,  Sires  in  God,  delight  to  call. 

When  the  Chief  Shepherd  shall  appear, 
Gathering  his  consecrated  near, 
Your  mitre  then,  so  worn  below, 
A  crown  upon  your  brow  shall  glow. 

How  shall  it  be  ?  by  prayer,  by  prayer — 
Prayer,  instant,  always,  everywhere — 
For  strengthening  in  the  inner  man, 
With  might  of  Him  whose  Spirit  can. 

Work  in  you  both  to  do  and  will ; 
Make  you  his  pleasure  to  fulfil ; 
Created  in  His  Son,  to  stand, 
The  workmanship  of  His  own  hand. 

So  BE  COMPLETE  YOUR  CONSECRATION, 
IN  YOUR  ETERNAL  CORONATION  ! 
1859. 


LINES 

TO    A    DEAR    FRIEND,    RECENTLY    DEPRIVED    OF    HER 
SIGHT. 

THE  violet  flowers,  the  meadows  green, 
The  concave  blue,  the  golden  sun, 

The  face  of  friends,  their  winsome  mien, 
All,  all,  to  thee,  for  ever  done. 

And  yet  no  murmuring  at  thy  lot ; 

No  weary  discontent  I  hear ; 
Nay,  God,  thy  God,  withholdeth  not 

His  own  sweet  light  within  to  cheer. 

Serene,  I  see  it  in  thy  face, 

E'en  as  if  not  of  sight  bereft, 
Telling  of  calm  submissive  grace, 

Wise  to  enjoy  what  still  is  left. 

Music  there's  left,  whose  notes  ne'er  tire, 
Home's  harmonies,  to  fill  thine  ear; 

The  descant  of  the  hearth-stone  choir, 
The  tones  of  love  in  voices  dear. 


LINES    TO    A    DEAR    FRIEND.  65 

Thanks  only  hast  thou  for  the  Lord, 
Granting  such  answer  to  thy  prayers : 

Daughters  and  sons  who  fear  His  word, 
And  joy  to  make  thy  wishes  theirs. 

Wealth,  too,  brings  many  a  gladsome  mood, 
Since  twice  with  that  endowed  thou  art; 

Rich  in  the  means  of  doing  good, 
Yet  richer  in  the  generous  heart. 

The  hungry  whom  thy  bounty  feeds, 

The  cold  and  naked  by  thee  clad, 
The  widow  gladdened  in  her  weeds, 

The  fatherless  no  longer  sad — 

The  sick  ones  in  their  hallowed  ward, 

With  nursing  sisters  at  their  side, 
Schools  of  the  prophets  of  the  Lord, 

Never  in  want  by  thee  denied — 


Such  mercies  while  thy  liberal  mind 
Rejoices  still  to  multiply, 

To  fairest  scenes  thou  art  not  blind, 
No  darkness  in  thy  spirit's  eye. 
6* 


66  LINES   TO    A   DEAR   FRIEND. 

And  more  and  more  of  inward  sight, 

May  God  vouchsafe  thee,  dearest  friend  ; 

Illume  thee  for  the  realms  of  light, 
Thine  eyes  immortal  vision  lend — 

His  glorious  dwelling  to  behold ! 

His  beautiful  Jerusalem ! 
Its  pearl,  and  emerald,  and  gold, 

Its  twelve  foundations,  each  a  gem. 

That  city's  light,  Jehovah's  face, 

The  Lamb  once  slain,  the  mid-day  sun; 

Before  the  throne,  there  crowned  by  grace, 
Be  thou  and  thine,  in  Christ  made  one  ! 
1859. 


NOTE  TO  PAGE  62. 
"  Who  keep  with  you  His  last  command." 

That  is,  Christ's  parting  command  to  His  Apostles,  to 
"  Go  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature."  The  sentiment 
implied  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  verses  of  the  "  Letter  Pater 
nal,"  is,  that  Bishops  acting  on  that  command,  in  virtue  of 
their  historic  succession  from  the  Apostles,  should  recog 
nise  all  who  fulfil  the  great  object  of  the  command,  whether 
they  be  in  the  line  of  such  succession  or  not.  If  this  is 
not  High  Church  doctrine,  neither  is  it  low.  The  Episco 
pal  Church  will  take  a  more  elevated  stand  as  a  witness 
for  her  Lord,  when,  instead  of  indiscriminately  ignoring  all 
preachers  beyond  her  pale,  she  distinguishes  those  who  hold 
"  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  gives  some  sign  of  fellow 
ship  with  them  as  co-workers  in  proclaiming  the  Gospel. 
Thus  to  discern  and  welcome  the  Faith  wherever  found, 
would  manifest  a  pure  affection  for  it,  and  would  be  an 
office  worthy  of  a  church,  the  acknowledged  centre  of 
Protestant  Christendom. 


